Memoirs of a Witch
by Falling Angel 01
Summary: Transported back to her fouth year, Pansy has to find a way home without changing the past and destroying her future with the help of a trio of Gryffindors. Harry/Pansy


**Disclaimer:** _I don't own HP at all!_

**Author's Note:** My first ever Harry Potter story, without focusing solely on the Draco/Hermione relationship, this is mainly a Pansy Parkinson-centered fan fiction. No couplings as far as this go, because I don't want to establish pairings, but I'm thinking about turning it into a Harry/Pansy. That would be interesting with this plot!

By: Fallin' Angel

I stare into my reflection in the silver cauldron (Specially designed for me of course), I have been doing this for the last ten minutes, although it might seem vain to others, it's my way of understanding who I am. Crystalline blue eyes starred from a small, pale face. I pinched my skin; it tinged with pink before flushing back to its original shade. I was always a pale child, not nearly as much as Draco, although it works exceptionally well for him. On me, it seems fragile, like a porcelain doll. My hair was cut, black with long bangs. I had that hairstyle since my fifth year here in Hogwarts, where I chopped off my long locks for a shorter, sophisticated glow. Someone made the comment that I was starting to look like Granger from the back.

I shuddered from the thought, running a hand through my hair. It wasn't nearly as sophisticated as I hope; most things don't turn out how I hope. I touched my nose; it wasn't pug as everyone says it was, thanks to a couple of spells from _Beauty Is Not Within_ by Carolina O'Conner. Okay… maybe I was a tad bit vain. Other people would have said my nose held character, but come on… if you weren't beautiful, you weren't anybody. I snorted at my little moment of righteousness. People are starting to stare at me, I don't mind, I love to be the center of attention anyway.

I would be starring at myself, if I was them. We were all in Potions class; Snape was droning on about wolf banes and serpent blood… or was it the other way around, serpent bane and wolf blood? I didn't care, I was supposed to be failing Potions anyway, but thanks to Professor, and Head of the glorious Slytherin, he is giving me a passing credit. From where I'm sitting, I can see what is going on in the dark, space. Vincent is sleeping, Gregory is eating; nothing out of the usual for those boneheads. When they start doing their assignments and paying attention, then we can become worried.

But I'm not one to talk, I have no idea what is going on right now. Longbottom sneezes and wipes the snot from his nose with his sleeve; filthy, disgusting Gryffindor. Granger is all ears and hair as she seems to be focusing on the Professor's every word, she looks like one of those furry creatures with big eyes, the name I would know if I paid any attention in Care of Magical Creatures. Potter is half asleep, a sort of painful expression on his face; I held back a laugh, _his scar probably hurts._ Weasley… who really cares what he is doing now? His horrendous, clown colored hair is disturbing my vision. I focused back on the Slytherin side, the part that actually mattered.

Draco was two tables ahead of me, instead of thinking about insulting the Gryffindors and he is actually saying them out loud. Weasley is starting to get angry… as usual, he has the worst temper ever, completely barbaric. He would never make it as a Slytherin, we are always calm and relax in all situations, wearing a bored expression when danger comes our way, then we hope out of the direction of danger and think of a way of controlling said danger against our opponents.

I go back to starring at my reflection, shaking my hair, changing facial looks, pouty then seductive. Snape interrupts the conversation, giving Weasley three weeks worth of detention. I laughed along with the rest of the Slytherins. It wasn't entirely too funny, but I made sure to laugh as loud as I could. Dean Thomas calls us Slimeballs, dirty sneaky bastards. I rolled my eyes, come on now, your professor, who I might add hates you anyway, was and still is a Slytherin. That was an utterly stupid 

move. Dean receives four weeks of detention for attempting to provoke a fight and insulting someone who was better than he would ever be. Yes, Snape, said that Gryffindors were below us. That man always was intelligent.

I smirked, fantastic job, Draco, by the way you're going half of the Gryffindor population will be in detention before Potions is over with. Snape continues, he writes something on the board, he mixes something in a red looking potion. I narrowed my eyes to see what he has written. _Veil of Souls_. What is that suppose to mean? Maybe I should have been listening. Snape tells us something, we all have to drink a vial of that. I grimaced. Now I'm about to drink a potion I know nothing about.

I watched as each student received a vial, seemingly out of thin air. Magic. Mines appear too and I snatch it out of the air, eyeing it suspiciously before slugging it down. Thick and tasted of wet socks, not like I ever tasted wet socks before, but I'm certain if it did have a particular taste, it would be exactly like the _Veil of Souls_ potion. Snape says it should take effect in ten minutes, I should ask Blaise what would happen. Blaise is my partner and occupies the right side of our table. I'm in the middle and that Daphne Green—somethingorother sits on the left.

She never talks, quiet as a mouse I say, but when she does, she has a Russian accent. Which shocks me, her last name is completely… well… not entirely English, more made up than anything else. Blaise never talks either. He's cute, I mean, he's no Draco and all but his biracial culture gives him an exotic air, Blaise says he's Italian and Black, his father, who barely speaks English well, is part of the Deatheaters in Rome, Italy. Apparently the Dark Lord has ties outside of Britain; specifically Hungary, Russia, Italy, and the States.

Don't act shock, both of my parents are Deatheaters and everyone knows what Draco's father does in his spare time; including the words terms: muggles, killing, and decapitation. You figure that one out on your own. Well, his spare time before he became an Azkaban occupant. My great-grand uncle once was in there. He had an obsession with muggle prostitutes in London. They even gave him a nickname, completely different than his actual name though, but since then, when others refer to him, they go by the said nickname, Jack. Original, isn't it?

I rub my head, feeling an unfamiliar ache come about. God, is that one of the effects of the potion? To induce headaches. No one seems to be in any pain whatsoever, besides Potter, but he always looks constipated, amongst other things, but I don't care to collaborate on them. I feel groggy, almost sluggish, my vision is getting worse. It feels as if I'm bathing in a pool of hot liquid, I feel myself falling. Someone screams. I hear my name called. It's dark…

I wake up and my whole body feels like I'm freefalling. I open my eyes and I'm back in the potions room. "Thank Merlin," I whispered. But it wasn't the same? The scene before me was shocking but I couldn't respond. I was so tired, I couldn't yell. Everyone was different, even Snape was different. They were younger, much younger than seventeen.

I couldn't tell how old they were, but if I had to guess, I would say fourteen? Was that a traveling time potion? Was there such thing as a traveling time potion? I wish I would have paid more attention. Everyone seemed to not feel as I did. They were copying notes, listening to Professor Snape. It was so similar to where I came from, but it wasn't the same.

Draco was different too, younger of course, but his hold demeanor wasn't the same. Usually from where I came from he is cold, transparent in emotions. Here it was… he was still cold but not nearly as much. As if he had a thread of innocence. Like he never seen too many horrors within his lifetime, that I know the older one did. Potter was like that too. He didn't look nearly as worried or exhausted. The 

boy really did think too much of himself, he voluntarily placed the world on his shoulder, and acted as if he was doing a fantastic job of doing so. I could see right through his façade.

I wondered did I seem different. My head was much heavier; dark, black curls hung down to my waist. I hated this style. If I could laugh right now I would, worrying about my hair over my safety. For all I know I could have been transported into a strange, alternate dimension; One where beautiful brunettes like me are sacrificed to some religious figure. I listen to the conversations whispered between the students. They seem a lot bolder in this world. _Yule Ball…_ I blinked my eyes and listened closely to Lavender Brown.

"I brought this gorgeous, ruby red robe to go to the--." I ignore the rest of the batter, my suspicious are confirm. I've been transported to the past and surprisingly, that doesn't scare me as one might think. Fourth Year… what happened during that term. Cedric Diggory was murdered by Voldemort, thus the beginning of the Ultimate and Last Battle.

Along with pieces of the puzzles that do not add up to me. Potter being part of the Triwizard Tournament, putting his own name in the cup… I'm confused. Why was I sent to this year? What was so significant that occurred? Besides the whole "Voldemort" and his return ordeal, which has nothing to do with me; Merlin, I wish I was a brain right now. I thought, glancing at Mudblood Granger out of the corner of my eyes.

I bet she would know exactly why I ended up in this year and what exactly the _Veil of Souls_ potion did. Wait… I do know a brain. Blaise Zambini. I look to my right and attempted to hide my disappointment, Millicent Bulstrode was occupying his "future" seat. I curse to myself, forgetting that we used to be best friends back then.

Where is that boy when you need him? My eyes scan over the heads of the Slytherin, finally resting on a familiar dark haired youth. I snickered quietly to myself, was he really that short in the fourth year? I scoffed at myself, the thought occurring. I was also shorter than my usual height, barely reaching five feet tall. For once I felt myself envious Ginny Weasley, who grew quite tall in her sixth year. Hermione wasn't a dwarf like me either.

Damn Gryffindors and their height splurges. Enough of me and my randomness, I wondered to myself, when would Potion class be over? And how could I explain my situation to Zambini without changing the future. I like my future just fine the way it was. Wouldn't it really suck if I ended up dating Ronald Weasley? I could feel myself ready to vomit at the thought. Disgusting!

I really need to focus. I really need to go back to my own time.


End file.
